They Killed My Sasha
by PHLover213
Summary: I remember my own first words: "Sasha! Sasha! Sasha!" . . . My first of what will likely be many homages to Susan Kay's Phantom. Kay-based, Erik's-POV. Please do read and enjoy. T for language.


I have never been given what I wanted.

Well, perhaps I have. I remember back in the house at Boscherville the first time I spoke. I remember my own first words: "Sasha! Sasha! Sasha!"

That beautiful dog was more a mother to me than Mama ever was. I daresay the dog loved me more than Mama ever did, too. She was a friend, perhaps one of the closest things I ever had to a true friend. I remember the way her fur shone in the light – in fact, it was the inspiration for my first concerto; I tried to capture the way she licked the tears from my face every night, the way she would bound happily around me, and the beautiful light in her eyes.

The beautiful light that was extinguished.

I wish most dearly that I could say to you that I remember the mistake that led to her death. Truly, I do. But I can't. So absorbed was I in my drawing that I completely forgot what she was, and I cannot remember the moment where my frustration boiled over and I threw the poor mutt out. I remember only the emotion.

And I remember turning to face Mama, a cold harsh glare fixed directly on her eyes – I unnerved her, I could tell – as I asked where Sasha was.

I remember the evil flash of emotion as I saw those boys grabbing her; the murderous growl deep in my eight-year-old throat. I would happily have fought them to the death over her life.

But it seemed they had other plans.

I still hear my own scream coupled with her final yelp of panic and pain echoing in my ears as they let the lifeless golden canine fall to the ground – "I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!" – and I raced to retrieve her. Everything paled to utter insignificance as I fell to my knees at Sasha's side. Nothing mattered, and I had no reason to exist. All that was left to me now was the attic bedroom and Mama's unfeeling awful harshness. Years had passed since she denied me the only present I would ever ask of her, and all those years this lovable dog had been there for me.

Now she was dead. My friend and – though I hated to admit I talked to a dog, my infallible pride causing me to pretend that I was talking to myself in juvenile madness – confidante of years was dead. I buried my masked face in her fur. I felt her hot skin growing cold. "Sasha!" I screamed, grieving already. I wanted to hit her for leaving me, but if I let my anger get the better of me . . .

I buried my fists in her fur, my hands clenching around the softness. So beautiful . . . she didn't deserve to die!

Even now I murmur expletives when I think of those wicked little children. I say, I'd kill them. Without a second thought, even if they were still boys, I would slit each throat with relish. Anger is a dangerous thing – I of all people am a testament to that – but on that night as I sang, completely unaffected by the thrusts of the shovel into the sod, I wanted to tear the world in two for all the rage that coursed through my veins. I hated the world; I hated each and every one of those snivelling little _bastards_ who had the _fucking_ nerve to kill _my_ Sasha. I kissed her golden forehead and deposited her in the hole. It was hardly a dignified way to go.

She deserved more. She deserved to be waited on, hand and foot, by the very same humans that took her life and bayed like bloodthirsty wolves for mine. They were not worthy to even _dream_ in their wildest _fantasies_ of allowing their hands to drift on her sunny fur in the gentlest of caresses.

I hated everything, and as I sank down into my bed that night I knew that now there was a grudge deep in my heart against men that I would never even try to reconcile.

As far as I saw it, everybody else would soon be dead.

**xxxx**

**Okay, this is probably really stupid (and I will post a Kay parody soon, I **_**promise**_**) but it's just that when I started reading Kay (YESTERDAY!) I felt like we should know how Erik felt when Sasha was killed. And I loved and hated that bit. It was when I started crying. I didn't stop.**

**Red and white rose petals for those who review!**


End file.
